the best within us

of flame and challenge

what can better represent the best within us

than the miracle of fire coming to be?

a match lies to us of the ease 

in the catching and expressing of the flame,

flint and tinder tell us more surely

of how hard it is

for the gift that is us

to take the spark within,

find how it can catch ahold to possibility,

and blaze bright enough

that who we are can be seen

and that who we are can be appreciated,

appreciated as a light that holds back the darkness

and calls to the spark within everyone

to also find how to flame.

by Henry H. Walker

January 10, ’14
image courtesy of Google Images

its emptiness

a hole in the floor of our sureness

I cannot fathom it--

a loss can be so real

that the depth of the absence

cannot be touched,

and we pull back the weighted line

and try to tack somewhere else,

the chasm feels like a whirlpool

that wants to share its emptiness,

to pull us in,

I imagine a black hole in space

that is real in this universe

but is so much more real somewhere else,

wherever it goes,

pictures, memories, stories can pull us

back and away for awhile,

we can throw ourselves into doing

and appreciate the dance 

we can pull together and perform,

we can pretend for awhile that there isn’t 

a hole in the floor of our sureness

into which a loved one has fallen

and into which we will fall--

the only question is when.

by Henry H. Walker

January 10, ’14
image courtesy of Google Images

I reach toward her light

grandparent permanence

grandparent permanence--

that’s what I hope for now

within our one-year-old grandson,

his sense that we still exist

even when out of eyesight,

yet further how I want us to be for our grandchildren

is as anchor to this world to keep them steady,

a presence within them that murmurs of unconditional love,

and faith that the tough right choice will be made,

that the enormity of worth within each of them

can and will be uncovered and released,

my grandmother was a star

in the firmament of my earliest realities,

and part of the best of who I am

comes from reaching toward the brightness of her light.

by Henry H. Walker

December 28, ’13

empty chairs

holes around the tables

as new days dawn,

and we’re still here,

I keenly feel the absences,

the holes where those I care about

no longer walk this earth,

I sit on the big screened porch at the cabin

and look down the tables flanked by empty chairs,

and I feel the emptiness of the chairs,

the holes once filled by family and friends

who have now died to this reality,

each time my children and spouses, and grandchildren,

leave again for their own lives,

the chairs around the common table also empty,

and I’m sad with the rightness of flying the nest,

and I also joy that other tables can fill and center joy

while I feel the holes around mine center loss,

how wonderful that I still have a partner

with whom to share the meal, the loss,

and the joy that every moment alive deserves to feel.

by Henry H. Walker

December 28, ’13

the way out becomes the way in

atomization

how ironic that just as our modern technology

connects us all with tools that span the earth,

and with which we can access centuries of data,

and with which we can reach others across the globe

with the touch of a few buttons or keys,

that just then the tribal calls us even more

to define ourselves as narrower and narrower,

like to like in blood, friendships, opinions,

it’s cultural atomization, 

the breaking down into the smallest possible units,

just when communities have the most potential to become larger,

we fall back from the march forward and become smaller,

we went into space and then decided

to be more Narcissus than Magellan.

by Henry H. Walker

December 26, ’13

a stairstep of becoming

our grandchildren, our joy

there should always be wonder

in the coming into the power of the self

that every child deserves to be able to release,

with our grandchildren it’s almost a stairstep of the stages of becoming,

our older granddaughter is eight going on adolescent,

as the consumes books, remembers everything,

notices and celebrates process after process,

all the while coming into the power of her will,

our five year old granddaughter can devastate us and herself

with the joy she can find in a moment,

and the sorrow that can envelope her the next,

heart and head hold each moment close to her,

and her will hates to be thwarted, too,

our youngest grandchild, one year old Max,

is as perfect a new child 

as one could hope for,

solid in body and self,

intense in eye and consideration,

beautiful in countenance 

and how his spirit animates 

face and head to express that self,

loving pattern in vocalization, 

and in the drumming of hands and feet,

his will wants to take on the world,

and he’s most successful now in pulling us all to him

to be whoever he might find most pleasing.

by Henry H. Walker

December 25, ’13

shifting perspective

first to third person narration

we live life in the first person

and events can subsume us

in the acting, into just being,

it’s when the narrator of our life

shifts to third person

that the larger context of it all

impinges on our consciousness,

in the first person 

I can feel myself intensely,

yet I need to step out,

to make the empathic leaps

into larger and larger contexts,

they can then overwhelm me with realization

that both centers me

and helps me realize the circles within circles

of which I am part,

and which also truly define who I am.

by Henry H. Walker

December 23, ’13